“Could be a long wait,” I said. “The old bird looks good for another thirty years or more. And ain’t she got blood relatives of her own, like yon skinny lass Clara?”
“My, you really are a detective, Mr. Dalziel,” said Heywood, recovering from my little put-down. “That’s right. Quite a lot, I gather. And, though most of them are very long shots indeed, there’s a whole bunch of her first husband’s relatives on the card.”
“Looks like I’m not the only detective,” I said. “Only here two minutes and you’ve got all the local crack noted and analyzed! So, rich old lady, lots of hopeful relations. Hope she locks her windows at night and doesn’t go out in the dark.”
She said, “Your line of work has clearly clouded your view of human nature.”
I said, “You reckon? You did the Pollyanna psychology course, did you?”
She said a bit defiantly, “I know it’s a cliché, but I do think there’s good in everybody if you look hard enough.”
“Me too,” I said. “That’s why I became a cop-so’s I could spend my life turning up stones looking for it.”
I glanced down at Roote as I said this, but he just grinned back up at me like I’d offered him a compliment and said, “Charley, dear, I wonder if I could trouble you to get me a glass of fruit juice. Pomegranate if there is any, but the ubiquitous orange will do. And I see Andy’s glass is empty…”
“Sure,” she said. “Would you like it in an earthenware jug?”
“What’s that about a jug?” I asked as she walked away.
“Ah, the sweet enigma of a woman’s words,” he said. “It is not for us to seek meaning. Andy, now we’re alone, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Ask away,” I said. “But tek note-just because I won’t hit a man in a wheelchair doesn’t make us first-name friends.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Would you prefer the official title then? Lady D was certainly very impressed when I told her you were head of Mid-Yorkshire CID.”
Now the change in buffalo woman’s attitude was explained. She clearly enjoyed power, and anyone that smelt of it probably turned her on.
“Mr. Dalziel will do,” I said.
“Oh, thank you kindly,” he simpered. I found myself liking the sourpuss lass who’d shoved him aside more and more.
“So what’s it you want to ask?” I demanded.
He turned very serious and said, “The thing is, I’m asking for a review of my case in the hope of getting the verdict overturned. I hoped you might support my appeal.”
Not many folk can gobsmack me, but somehow Roote’s learned the trick.
“Eh?” I said.
“It’s a question of getting into America for the publication of my Beddoes biography. The dean of St. Poll University called in some favors to get me a special dispensation a couple of years back-but since nine-eleven, if you’ve got three penalty points on your driver’s license, they’re reluctant to let you in. I need to be there, for interviews and signings. Keeping me out is a violation of my basic human right to make a living!”
Just then Heywood came back with a drinks tray. Just as well else I might have forgot me scruples and picked Roote up, wheelchair and all, and hoyed him through the window! Instead I downed my bubbles in one, then grabbed another glass, hers I suppose, and drank that too. I drew the line at Roote’s juice. I weren’t that far gone. Heywood didn’t say owt, just buggered off back to the drinks table.
At last I could speak.
“You want me to support your appeal against a conviction which my evidence helped to get? A conviction that’s only ever bothered me because I reckon the sentence should have been twice as long!”
“Exactly,” he said. “You can see your support would really impress the court.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I said, “I need another drink.”
And I’d have gone after the lass only my legs didn’t seem to want to work.
Roote reached up and got a hold of my arm.
“Really, you mustn’t try so hard,” he said seriously.
“What the fuck are you on about?” I demanded.
He pulled me down so he was talking in a low voice right into my face.
“When you’ve been as close to death as we have,” he said, “you don’t just take a single step back to where you were; it’s a long, long journey.”
“Thank you, Dr. Roote,” I said. “I were wondering what I were doing in a conva-fucking-lescent home, and now you’ve spelt it out. I’m conva-fucking-lescing!”
“I’m not just talking physical here,” he said. “It’s a long way back to yourself. Mostly we do it by acting ourselves. We remember the way we were and we devote all our energy to trying to get back into the part, even if it involves drinking fifteen pints before breakfast. But it is just a part, Andy. Now’s the time, while you’re still relearning it, to pause and consider just who this being is that’s doing the learning.”
My head were really spinning now. Didn’t know whether it were from Festerwhanger’s bubbles or Roote’s babbles. Didn’t care either. I pulled my arm free and came close to keeling over, except someone got a hold of my other arm and I heard Pet Sheldon say, “Time to be on our way, I think, Andy.”
Places I normally drink, no bugger calls closing time on me. I forced the world back into focus. Distantly I saw buffalo woman beckoning me like I was a headwaiter. I gave her a smile and a wave and said to Pet, “You’re right, luv. Take me to bed.”
The fresh sea air hit me like a flying fish and I leaned heavily on Pet as we tacked toward the old house. There were a din like the clatter of the weaving room in an old wool mill as an ancient motorbike and sidecar went rattling by. The rider had his helmet and visor on, but I recognized Mr. Godley’s beard. Funny, it were likely the fresh air, but just the sight of him made me feel better.
“There goes the healer,” I said, managing to straighten up a bit. “Old Festerwhanger takes him on, you could all be out of work.”
“I shan’t hold my breath,” she said. “It’s nursing gets sick people better, not dosing them with herbs, or sticking them with skewers.”
“Nay, lass, you shouldn’t rush to mock what it says in the Bible,” I said.
“Laying on of hands and that stuff?” she said. “We’ve moved on a bit since then, I hope. Just because that chap looks like Jesus doesn’t mean he’s going to raise you from the dead. So let’s get you to your bed, shall we?”
“That’s what I’m talking about, luv,” I said. “Old Testament therapy. Like King David and Abishag the Shummanite. Any chance of fixing that for me?”
She knew her Bible ’cos that made her laugh.
“My old gran always used to say the devil could quote scripture,” she said. “Now shut up or I’ll drop you here on the drive and let Lady Denham run you over with that rust bucket of hers. She’s a menace, that woman.”
She spoke so vehemently, I thought, There’s a bit more than road rage here! What’s she done to rattle your cage?
It took me another half dozen paces to work it out. Back afore the big bang, I’d have seen it half an hour ago.
It’s old Festerwhanger! Pet’s got the hots for him too! It must really get up her nose, seeing the way he fawns on Lady D and she treats him like her personal property.